


Old Enough To Know, But Too Young To Care

by animegoil



Category: Young Justice
Genre: Banter, F/M, First Time, Foreplay, Oral Sex, traught - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animegoil/pseuds/animegoil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want to suck you off." The words surprise her almost as much as they seem to surprise Dick. </p>
<p>But hell if she's backing down  now that she's said it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Enough To Know, But Too Young To Care

**Author's Note:**

> Set in season 2. They're 17 & 18 respectively. Spitfire does not exist in this fic.

“I want to suck you off.”

The words surprise her almost as much as they seem to surprise Dick. She feigns nonchalance, tilting her head to watch as he swallows, breaths coming out even faster than before, turning into puffs of white in the nippy late-October breeze. His lips shine with their shared saliva, and she knows hers do too. She flicks her tongue out to wipe a trickle going down her chin and licks her lips, chasing the elusive taste of the mint Dick was sucking on earlier.

If she were basing it on the warmth of Dick’s hands on the exposed skin of her hips and the pulse she can see drumming just under the skintight collar of his Nightwing uniform, she might have easily confused this for another wet dream. But her dreams don’t usually include the scurrying of a cat slinking away to leap onto another Gotham rooftop, nor the lazy squirrel-shaped cloud drifting across the half moon illuminating them. The sting of a few scrapes on her elbows and knees when she rolled away from a shotgun earlier that evening serve as the pinches she’s tempted to give herself. She feels as crazy turned on as she does in those dreams though, fingertips tingling, thick heat spreading between her legs and making her shift her thighs back and forth in search of friction.

Dick laughs in disbelief. After four years— her whole hero career, really, and half of his— she knows that he’s warring between the temptation driving his hips in little needy circles against hers and that profoundly annoying conscience he carries around in the voice of Batman, telling him what’s right and wrong.

Artemis wills her pulse to slow before he notices. She’s not taking it back.

“You want it or not?”

Dick blinks, the blue of his eyes hazy with confusion and arousal. She always flips up his whiteout lenses when they’re making out. It’s hard enough communicating with words – without getting to see his eyes, it’d be impossible for her. Though lately, she feels like she’s getting the hang of reading his gestures. Dick is a surprisingly physical person, and the gentle squeeze of a hand or a fleeting touch on the nape of her neck often work better than words in reading him.

“‘Mis, we said we weren’t—”

“—going to have sex, I know. But this isn’t sex.”

He gives her a look and leans forward, nuzzling her neck and pressing a trail of kisses along her jaw like he can’t help pleasuring her even as they converse. “Then what is it?” he murmurs.

“C’mon.” She might be whining. A bit. “You know what I mean. Stop being a chicken.”

His eyebrow rises like a cat arching its back. Calling him a chicken might work when they’re in a silly mood, daring each other to eat increasingly gross combinations of food late at night, but in a matter like this? Ineffective, heavy on the _in_.

She sighs, rubbing the top of his shoulder with her thumb, digging a little bit into that spot that always gets sore ever since he dislocated his arm. “Sorry, I just got carried away.”

He gives a little groan when she pushes in a little more, but instead of agreeing or disagreeing, what he says is, “I don’t have a condom.”

Her pulse is so thick she thinks she can swallow it. Another cloud waltzes past the little moonlight illuminating them, and in the sudden darkness, she takes the opportunity to kiss him as hard as she can. He laughs, little stutter breaths slipping out between their lips, and she arches when he licks the hollow of her collarbone. “We’re both virgins,” she says. “We can’t have STDs.”

He hesitates, breath puffing over her forehead. “But so you’re okay with…”

“Yes! Do it.” She’s sure. She thinks…

He lets her go faster than a spring-loaded trap, muttering a quick ‘sorry’ when she stumbles backward. His belt is off, the knock of the metal against the ground ricocheting off the cement and iron surrounding them. His tights fall to the ground in a messy, elastic pool, and the contrast between the white of his legs and the dark of his shirt and boxer-briefs shocks her with its starkness.

The bulge is… impressive. Whether in size, she has no idea, but at least in presence. She thinks she lets out a little groan of her own, feels warmth slipping between her legs, wants to rub the inside of her thighs so _badly_. His legs are pale, the hair becoming coarser just as it reaches the hem of his boxer-briefs. The black is incredibly sexy, but it makes it hard for her to make out a dark spot near the top of his briefs. It takes her a moment to realize that it’s a wet spot, and that he’s not only hard but also leaking. For this. For _her_. The realization makes her dizzy, and she _needs_ to touch and see.

Dick is watching her, chest completely still, the muscles of his quads standing out as he braces himself on the wall. When her finger touches him, even through the cloth, he moans and thrusts a little. She jumps back, surprised at the heat and the slight dampness and how _hard_ it was, underneath the initial give of skin.

“Wow,” she says stupidly, staring. “You’re really, um… on a scale of one to Wally’s head, how hard are you?”

“Eight.” Dick says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, ‘Mis… I need…”

She wants to stare longer, study the way she can see it—flex? It _moved_? She wants to cup him with her palm, rub him. But apparently Dick isn’t in the mood to wait and let her adjust. Which she supposes is her fault – she’d sounded pretty ready when she asked, didn’t she?

“Wow,” she says again. “Is that… normal? Do you always get that hard?” She has no idea how it works. She’s felt Dick hard before – making out on the couch, she’s felt the unforgiving bulge driving into her, tantalizing even though layers of denim or cloth, fitting perfectly into the dips of her body. But she doesn’t know anything about its extent.

“One time I thought of you undressing and got all the way up to a six.”

Her skin flares up with heat and all that manages to squeeze through her throat is “Oh.”

“And when we spar,” he goes on, and she’s pretty sure he’s just doing it to tease her, even though the slight strain in his voice says he’s probably teasing himself as well, “I’m pretty much at a pretty comfortable, or really, barely fortable, range of 3 or 4 depending on how much you touch me.”

Artemis blinks, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of his briefs because she _needs_ to get closer “…I can’t tell if that just means that you guys are easily pleased or, or…um,” she trails off. She thinks it can be forgiven that she’s a bit distracted.  

He suddenly pulls her against him, and the heat of his body, legs bare, the swell of his erection pressing just above her navel, makes her lose her breath and her knees to wobble. Is that normal? He’s still in his underwear and she’s already feeling overwhelmed and lightheaded with want. She blames it on first time nerves. She _wants_ him, his scar-pocked skin, his dark hair, the firm slimness of his arms and legs and _ass_ , the arch of his back and the softness of his earlobes. She wants all of it.

“Or maybe you’re just really hot,” he says, and he’s back to suckling her neck, drawing little gasps from her. Even as a kid she doesn’t think she sucked lollipops with the relish he does.

“Mmm, yeah,” she says in between breaths, hands thick in his hair. “That’s probably it.”

He’s pushing his erection against her stomach in sharp shallow thrusts and she wonders if that’s satisfying. Is that enough, or does he need to actually come for it to be good?

“Although, ‘Mis…” He presses one palm to her breast, kneading gently even though the uniform protects her. The other hand is pressed against her shoulder blade, keeping her from tumbling backwards. “You’re telling me you never get all hot and bothered when I lick your nipples? Flick ‘em and rub ‘em and suck your neck?”

Now he’s just dirty talking. And she won’t lie and say that it doesn’t make her rise on her tiptoes and try to fit her hips right on his erection, where it can push and shove at her clit and make her pant against his neck. And she loves this—her cheeks are getting that tingly numb feeling that surprised her so much the first time it happened, until she realized that it seemed to only happen in the middle of a particularly good making-out session, when Dick was being daring with his teeth and gentle with his words.

“Ah… Mmm… Okay, no, seriously, can we get back to the business of me sucking you off?”

That might have been a whimper that came out of Dick’s mouth. Artemis can’t be sure, her boobs are more or less muffling his voice.  He _was_ trying to pull aside the sleeve of her uniform enough to wriggle his tongue in, but now he’s gone sort of still against her. Except for his dick, which is hot and throbbing against her thigh—she call feel the hot imprint on her skin even through her pants.

She pulls away and kneels at his feet, rooftop grit grinding against the open scrapes on her knees, but she’s way past caring. He leans back, one arm on the cement wall, the other raking through her hair, and she’s not sure if he’s trying to soother her nerves or _his_.

Her fingers are shaking slightly as slips them into the waistband of his boxer-briefs and begins pulling. Slowly. Dick _writhes_ , panting through his teeth, and she swears her mouth is watering, watching pink, taut skin and dark curls rise slowly from the darkness.

She stares. It’s a weird mix of arousal and a daze that would have her swaying if he weren’t holding onto her head. Again, she’s not sure if he’s large or small or just average, but his dick curves slightly up. She wonders absently how it all fit inside his underwear in the first place, because right now it looms, foreign and immense, in front of her face. The skin is surprisingly delicate-looking. The crown is wide, and as she watches, milky liquid beads up at the top.

He shivers. Whether from the cold, which granted, is enough that this is going to have to be quick, or something else, she doesn’t know.

“I don’t wanna rush you… but I’m definitely at a nine or ten now. Just sayin’”

That’s when Artemis realizes she has another problem.

“Um… I don’t  actually know how to do this.”

Dick laughs at her scowl. “It’s easy – _this_ goes… well, you know…”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” She rolls her eyes. In theory, it sounds easy enough… but even approaching it is weird. She leans forward, straightening up to approach from above, thinking to accommodate its curve, and opens her mouth—

“Hey, hey! No teeth, no teeth! This is a _really sensitive_ body part!”

She puckers her lips a bit, awkward to do with her mouth open, and goes for it.


End file.
